Saturated In B-Movie Richness. Review on Planet Of The Apes Movie

Being a b-movie slut can disorientate, mostly when it comes

to differentiating between a horrible movie, and something

that can be ducked under 'cheesy friday night time killer'

with justifiable evidence that it's cheesiness be deliberate.

So with that in mind, I curled up beside my dearest awesome

and indulged upon the b-movie hit of the summer, Planet

Of The Apes.

Like the muscled bully seventh grader achieving straight D

minuses, Planet of the Apes' remake foundation muscled the movie's

way onto the box office charts with little but contempt

for it's far superior competitors. Alienating all sense

of decency when questioned on character balance, POTA's

seemingly crusty exterior and relative hollowness are justified

by it's preoccupation with thrilling through action means

as opposed to varnishing another flaccid premise with the critic-friendly

'quirky and original' plotting.

Planet of the Apes has that abysmal chime that sparks your

attention and gets you watching. It's filmed with precision,

basking in the glow of it's wonderful action directing while

resonating that intangible poor acting closeness that

renders it innocuous to the dignity of the summer cinema

body. It happens upon the viewer and, despite drowning them

in embarrassment, maintains their patience and delivers

a competent arrangement of it's elements in a harmonious

whole that's not soon forgotten.